Something about this morning just wants there to be an associative property between New York City's The Big Sleep and my morning re-reading of Richard Brautigan's short story, "A Need For Gardens." Decide for yourselves. The music is here for your listening and here's a passage from the story: "When I got there they were burying the lion in the back yard again. As usual, it was a hastily dug grave, not really large enough to hold the lion and dug with a maximum of incompetence and they were trying to stuff the lion into a sloppy little hole. The lion as usual took it quite stoically. Having been buried at least fifty times during the last two years, the lion had gotten used to being buried in the back yard. I remember the first time they buried him. He didn't know what was happening. He was a younger lion, then, and was frightened and confused, but now he knew what was happening because he was an older lion and had been buried so many times. He looked vaguely bored as they folded his front paws across his chest and started throwing dirt in his face. It was basically hopeless. The lion would never fit the hole. It had never fit a hole in the back yard before and it never would. They just couldn't dig a hole big enough to bury that lion in."